


metamorphosis

by jestingjokers



Series: gossamer [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ouma not Oma, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), fluff fluff fluffffffff, food ment, i use surnames bc im a jp release normie im sorry folks, self deprecation kindof except saihara doesnt see it that way lol, unbeta'd im going in dry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestingjokers/pseuds/jestingjokers
Summary: Their contrast lied in private, where their interactions were for no one except themselves.While Saihara was the same as always, Ouma would transform into such a completely different person that it shocked even him.





	metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> theres not enough fluff and lighthearted pregame content in the tag so i took it upon myself to deliver (as lighthearted as it can be, anyways)
> 
> a short drabble! mostly to try and warmup, im a little rusty at writing ahaha;;
> 
> also my pregame personalities differ from canon slightly; saihara is pretty stoic unless it comes to danganronpa, in which he gets so excited he tends to stumble over himself and show rare flashes of emotion
> 
> ouma, however, is a chuuni who has his ingame self as his edgy demon leader oc that he tries really hard to act like irl and you absolutely cannot take this hc away from me. yes his favorite character is gundam if you were wondering
> 
> without further ado, here we gooo!

_Ding dong, bing bong..._

The familiar ring of the school bell crackled over the speakers, barely registering itself in Saihara's head as it called everyone to lunch, teachers undoubtedly eager for their break away from the horror that was large groups of teenagers in one place. Such was natural to him at this point, as school was nothing but another dreary routine to drag himself through, until he returned to the comforting embrace of his home. That was, his home was his bedroom, where he could enthrall himself in the story of his favorite series by far, where figures and posters would leer down at him and bring him a strange sort of comfort. Little else would bring him the joy that Danganronpa did.

That 'little else' was the student named Ouma Kokichi, who would always meet up with him at lunch. Ouma, who made the chore of eating slightly more bearable.

In a way, he and Ouma could be considered alike. Within the classroom, they weren't much different from one another; two quiet people who would wordlessly work away at their own projects, doodles for Ouma and scribbles that conveyed only half-thoughts for Saihara, never making much of an impact on their peers. Both of them could disappear and he was sure no one would notice or care. That was just the way of things, he supposed.

Their contrast lied in private, where their interactions were for no one except themselves.

While Saihara was the same as always, Ouma would transform into such a completely different person that it shocked even him.

Explosions of emotions would burst forth on his face, in his body language, down to even his motions and the way he carried himself, albeit a tad shakily. In these precious moments, he was not Ouma Kokichi, the sullen shadow that would sulk at the back of the class, but he was now _Ouma Kokichi_ , an eccentric and self proclaimed 'demon leader' who led an almighty organization that was to be feared.

And he was Saihara Shuuichi, a plain old nobody.

A nobody with a blank and empty stare that was never quite there. A nobody with a hat that would cast shadows over his eyes, poorly obscuring the dark circles underneath them from sleepless nights of tossing and turning and tangling himself in his bed sheets. Saihara Shuuichi, who couldn't muster much of a reply that wasn't a halfhearted grunt or nod of acknowledgement. Who, when actually willing to talk (and typically because of so much as a mere utterance of the word Danganronpa), would stumble over himself like a bumbling fool, his brain working too fast for his tongue to follow and tripping over words as if they were cracks in an old sidewalk.

He often wondered whatever it was that Ouma saw as 'friend worthy', because he had never been able to see it for himself.

Saihara sat now at a distant, solitary lunch table, picking at his lunch of bland rice with bland eggs, topped off with a unopened and just as bland water bottle. It's almost all too familiar to what he would call the 'old days', where he had no one but himself and spent his freetime staring blankly at walls and waiting for time to tick past.

Before he could submerge himself too deeply in his own, admittedly depressing thoughts. Ouma approached with an eager "hi, Saihara-k— chan!" and wiggled himself into the seat next to him, leaning all too close in a way that was surely intruding on personal space. Despite this, Saihara only grunted in absentminded acknowledgement, eyes still fixated on his own meal.

"Uuugh! I felt like my brain was going to fall out of my ears, like, _splort_! That's how boring it was! Demon leaders thrive off of fun and mischief, not math problems and study guides!" As per routine, Ouma went rambling off on whatever was on his mind, and, as per routine, Saihara listened with half an ear as he reached into his bag, pulling out a second boxed lunch.

Wordlessly, he untied the box with numb fingers, barely registering the feeling of cloth against his skin as he opened the lid, the smell of food wafting out and into the air, hushing Ouma for a moment. The telltale growl of the other boy's stomach was not lost on him; in fact, he slid the extra lunch in front of his schoolmate. Which mostly consisted of—

"Meat! Saihara-chan, you remembered!" With a delighted giggle, Saihara felt the light pat of his hand on his head, right on the black hat he so often sported.

Meat. A few days into knowing each other, when they were not much more than acquaintances, Ouma had loudly (too loudly) declared that since he was a demon, the only kind of diet he could eat was that of a carnivores. He claimed that meat was expensive and he couldn't just slaughter animals instead, lest he tip off his 'hunters'. That was why, he said, didn't bring a lunch that day. And the day after that. And the day after that, too.

Saihara started to pack an extra lunch just for him. It wasn't much of a bother to him, after all. He had the spare time in the morning, anyways, and it was making use of ingredients he could do without.

Eyeing the lunch with hungry eyes, Ouma picked up a pair of chopsticks with nimble, quivering hands, digging in as if he hadn't eaten all day. A quick glance at Ouma's form told him that it was most likely true.

Saihara had always put more thought in his schoolmate's lunch than his own. While he meagerly pecked away at some rice and unseasoned eggs, Ouma had feasted on sausages cut to resemble octopi, beef cut into squares, as well as a small pile of eggs, seasoned with both salt and pepper, cheeks puffed up with food.

"You eat like an American." It comes out as a soft mumble, voice cracking a little from how little it was used. But the boy managed to pick it up regardless, looking away from his food to fixate those brilliant purple eyes on him.

"Hmm?"

Hues of wonderful lavender, easy to lose himself in, as if he were gazing into a flowerfield hidden within those irises. So captivating and enticing, so much unlike his own boring gray eyes, which could only be compared to a dull blade that was good-for-nothing.

"Well!" Snapped out of his thoughts by the chirp of his friend's ( _friend?_ Could he even call him that?) voice, Saihara noticed his eyes had drifted down to the smidge of oil on Ouma's bottom lip, and his hand began to wander to the pocket of his jacket. "All Americans eat kinda sloppy and obnoxious-like, yeah? Maybe Americans are just part demon!"

He can't resist a snort escaping him. Ouma said things with such a conviction and belief in himself that had always amused him.

"Maybe one of them is my..."

The shorter boy's voice trails off as a silk handkerchief brushed against his bottom lip, and Saihara distantly registered the faint texture of his lip through the cloth, blooming against his usually so numb and cold fingertips. Rubbing gently at it, until his skin was clean and there was nothing but a dark patch on the cloth.

"M-my..."

Eyes zoning out again, Saihara only faintly noticed the way Ouma's face warmed, slowly spreading to his ears as a bout of timidity overtook him. This wasn't the first time Ouma had retreated into his shell at such an intimate touch, but it tugged a smile at Saihara's lips all the same.

"...kin..."

School was a boring, dreary routine, dragging his feet through shades of grey until he got home to the burst of color that Danganronpa was for him.

However, there was always dashes of colors like this, like the red that made Ouma's face warm in hue and Saihara's own world would blossom in shades of red too. Stripping away layer after layer to reveal the soft, shy boy underneath with nothing but a caring touch, the side that only he was lucky enough to be graced with.

As he lost himself in the whirlpool he called his thoughts, Ouma crossed his arms and quickly turned his eyes to a nearby tree, shoulders scrunching up as if to hide himself.

It's then he decides that maybe his routine isn't so bad, if only for moments like this.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this far!! 
> 
> i might write more drabbles here and there lol and you're 100% allowed to request any!! i cant promise ill write it bc im lazy but ill... try.
> 
> if you want to contact me, the best way is via @knightlysupreme on twitter. i shitpost a lot tho
> 
> however, if you wanna contact me anonymously (or dont have a twitter acc), curiouscat is just as fine ( https://curiouscat.me/knightlysupreme !)
> 
> oops i rambled ANYWAYS ty again for reading this far!! if you liked, a kudos and comment would be greatly appreciated <3


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